


A Terrible Affliction

by Veul_McLannon



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bones Knows(tm), Bones isn’t homophobic he just REALLY didn’t want to know what Jim got up to in his private life, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, also Kirk has Incredible mood swings between Contentment and Being Maudlin, and that’s just part of being dad to 400-odd people, they’re mind-linked but it’s not super-plot-relevant it Just Is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veul_McLannon/pseuds/Veul_McLannon
Summary: Finally there is a minute to rest aboard the Enterprise. Jim plans to take advantage of every second he can get. Meanwhile, with the appearance of some disturbing welts on the First Officer’s neck, the Chief Medical Officer is becoming increasingly concerned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So it transpires that writing for your original fandom reduces your writing to the level you were writing at a decade ago! Who knew! It’s full of every single Do Not Write in fanfiction. I’m so sorry folks. I own nothing~

“Mr Spock.” The Chief Medical Officer materialised on the bridge sporting a frown to darken the sunniest of days. The Captain, willing to take any means of brightening a dull shift, settled in for an entertaining show. “You are three days overdue for your bi-annual physical. I _know_ it’s a quiet shift, I insist you report to medical.”

“Doctor, I regret to say that at the present moment, I find myself lacking the time to comply with your wishes.” Jim grinned to himself. “There are a variety of reports nearing completion, and given the lack of any overt emergency, and the rarity of such a circumstance, I must decline your invitation.”

“My invi-” McCoy spluttered, outraged.

Jim jumped in with a pacifying tone at the ready.

“He’s right, Bones, I _have_ been nagging about those reports for a while now, but it’s been so... busy.” He waved an airy, apologetic-seeming hand. “You know how it is.”

“Well, yes, Jim bu-”

“I will ensure that he reports to you by the end of the ship's week, no doubt about it.”

“But Jim, I-”

“Thank you, doctor. Mr Sulu, an amended estimation of arrival time, please?”

Summarily dismissed, McCoy stalked back out in a funk.

***

Alpha shift seemed to last for centuries. After three years as captain of the Enterprise, and almost two decades in space, one would think he would be used to it – but the sudden dead calm after the last few days of yet another battle for their very survival made Jim’s attempts to concentrate on the routine, the normal, the mundane, while Spock sat less than five feet away from him, all but radiating heat... challenging, to say the least.

He took solace in the fact that Chekov and Sulu were having an equally bad time, and hiding it considerably less well.

The shift finally changed. His navigator and pilot made a somewhat ignominious beeline for the turbolift. He levered himself out of the centre seat in measured fashion and passed over to the officer on Gamma duty with a nod and smile. Spock was already waiting by the turbolift, and he suppressed a wide grin in favour of a small smirk at his First.

Given the overtime required by the last week of space-related antics, their next shift wasn’t for a full sixteen hours. They had barely had time to speak to each other, let alone take any kind of downtime, so Jim was practically buzzing with the excitement of having his First Officer to himself for a while.

They stepped out of the turbolift in sync. Jim could see his door less than twenty feet away... fifteen...

“Captain!”

He groaned internally, reapplying his Command Face and muttering to Spock, “You go on ahead, I shouldn’t be long.”

As he turned to the Lieutenant in question (sent by McCoy, the bastard; didn’t he _know_ Jim was busy?!) he saw his First tapping in the door code and letting himself in. Halfway there.

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Dr McCoy sent me. He wants to know-”

“Let me guess; it’s about Spock’s medical.”

The kid’s jaw dropped, but right now Jim was not in the mood for amusement. “Yes sir... he said-”

“Please will you tell... Dr McCoy that I have given him a timeframe and will be sticking to it. He need have no _concerns_ on that front. Anything else, Lieutenant?”

“I... no sir. Thank you sir,” the unfortunate creature replied, abashed.

Jim smiled at him more kindly. “That’s all right, Mr... Davies. Thank you for passing on the message.” No point in upsetting the crew, after all.

The kid smiled a little awkwardly and went on his way. Right. Now that was sorted...

Ten feet away... Five feet- he punched in the code and was greeted by near-darkness. He frowned a little.

“Spock? Where are y-”

“Here, Jim,” came a voice from the shadows, before strong arms wrapped snakelike around his torso, Spock burying his face in Jim’s neck.

Kirk sighed happily and leaned back against the support, running a hand awkwardly up a blue sleeve to try and tilt Spock’s head down for a kiss, before giving up and turning round in his arms to make good on his attempts.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed against flushed green lips once they surfaced. “It’s been so long.” He started laying smaller kisses along Spock’s jaw, feeling the muscles move as the Vulcan smiled. As he always did, Jim pulled back to witness the wonder of nature that was Spock – his Spock – smiling, feeling his heart melt and falling in love all over again.

“A week without you to hold is indeed an eternity, Jim,” Spock replied solemnly, tracing the lines of his partner’s face. Jim thought he might expire from happiness then and there: of course Spock couldn’t _actually admit_ that a week was a long time, logic would shudder in the face of such a falsehood; but to know that Spock considered a week _without Jim_ to be interminable was... exhilarating.

Jim lost himself in mapping out Spock’s face for the hundredth time, ceaselessly fascinated by the existence of a creature so unutterably beautiful; and so they stood for minutes – hours – days – simply existing with one another, with the knowledge that all aboard was under control without need of them. In the end, it was he who broke the silence.

“As we have such a long break before we’re back on duty, I thought we could maybe have a nice quiet dinner, perhaps a game of chess, an early night...” He grinned innocently at the disbelieving manner in which Spock’s eyebrow crept up his forehead.

“I don’t think so, Jim.” The flushed green face was too blank, too calm; the amusement sparking through his dark eyes all too clear to his captain. “I have a superior proposal, which may meet with your satisfaction, as it too involves eating, games, and indeed... sleep. I woul-”

The noise Jim made was inhuman. He all but flung himself at Spock, somehow managing to form the words, “Bed. Now” around a mouthful of Vulcan – and after that very few words were needed.

***

Jim awoke the next day in exactly his favourite manner: well-rested, well-laid, and – well – curled into the side of his Vulcan First Officer. His Spock. Who was in fact still asleep, thereby improving the manner of Jim’s awakening by approximately 100%. He turned over, propping himself on his elbow to smile down at the familiar face in the darkened room, seeing little more than shadows – but knowing that face as well and as long as he had, it made no difference. _However_...

“Light up,” he whispered to the bedside lamp, which obligingly began to emit a soft yellow glow. He looked back down at the sleeping Vulcan, beautiful as he always was, but somehow... different, softer, more innocent somehow in sleep. Jim loved these moments, for their rarity, and for the warm glow they produced somewhere in the region of his chest. He knew that three, ten, fifty years if he made it that far, these times – the precious, quiet times when Jim was only Jim and Spock was only Spock – would remain etched into his memory, a capsule locked in eternity. He settled back against the pillows, determined not to let his thoughts darken (and how easy it was, how simple, when every day the unexpected hurtled at them through the void of unmapped space, when every day was a golden gift).

Spock’s eyes fluttered at the movement, and Jim reached out a hand to pet the soft, somehow always-perfect head of hair beside him. Spock leaned into his hand and hummed in the back of his throat, still half-asleep. Not for the first time, Jim was struck by how much like an overgrown cat he was. He realised he was smiling like a lovesick idiot, but here, in the privacy of their quarters, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not to mention that fact that he was, in fact, a lovesick idiot. He just also happened to be a starship Captain.

“Jim,” Spock murmured into the pillow, finally opening his eyes and twisting to look up at his bedfellow.

Kirk felt his heart melt at the trust and warmth in those dark brown eyes – and then an equally strong flash of guilt as he saw his First officer’s exposed upper torso. Spock blinked in surprise at such an onslaught of negative emotion seconds after awakening.

“Oh god, Spock...” Jim reached out tentatively, his hand hovering scant millimetres from skin contact. “I’m so sorry, I... I didn’t realise I got that carried away...” His First Officer’s lower neck and shoulders were covered in an impressive collection of smallish, roundish, green-tinged marks.

Spock, who, despite having awoken less than a minute previously, was already in full command of all his not-inconsiderable faculties, arrived at the correct conclusion and huffed out a laugh, before gathering up the hand hovering near his neck and pulling it gently down towards him. The look of utter bliss which suffused his face at the contact, and the wash of emotion which swept over both parties, had Jim suppressing a gasp – poorly. “Spock...” he almost whispered, reverential in the quiet and the half-light. “I am sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Jim,” came the answer in an undertone, as Spock caught his eyeline and held it fast. “We are always careful to keep evidence of fraternisation below collar level, and in any case... the... events which caused the... affliction were... not unenjoyable.” He blinked once, slowly, his eyes glittering, as Jim broke into the widest grin he could remember.

They still had about two hours until the start of shift. Jim slid the hand resting on Spock’s collarbone up his neck to run a thumb over one stark cheekbone, burrowing properly back under the covers to bestow an adoring kiss on his Vulcan. His Spock. One kiss, as always, multiplied. And so, adoring and adored, they let the beginning of a new day wait for a while longer.


	2. Chapter 2

It just so happened that, one hour and forty minutes later, Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Commander Spock chanced to bump into each other on the way from their cabins. Or that was the official line, at any rate. Not that there needed to _be_ an official line, since they were, as it happened, the highest ranking officers on the ship.

They stepped out of the turbolift together, each to their own stations in silence. The bridge was calm, only the occasional beeps of the computers breaking the quietude. Kirk brought up one of Spock’s science reports completed the previous day before they turned in. He loved the drama and excitement of being a starship Captain, of course, but sometimes an uneventful few days were warranted – for the crew as much as he himself.

Sulu and Chekov were conversing in an undertone, leant towards each other across the central console. The look of beatific adoration on the navigator’s face would have informed even a newcomer aboard the Enterprise of the state of affairs in that quarter. Kirk, half-smiling, nevertheless felt his heart ache. What he wouldn’t give, some days, to be able to look at Spock like that. To not have to restrain himself at every turn. He shot a glance over at his science officer, already engrossed in work.

It would be easy to become maudlin on a day as quiet as this, he mused wryly.

The intercom beeped – McCoy.

“I’m bringing up those lab reports on the alien disease a few of the crew picked up last shore leave. Some interesting findings there, I’ll say.”

Jim rolled his eyes, though the CMO couldn’t see it. He knew why McCoy himself was bothering to make the journey up. “I promised you I would have him in sickbay by the end of this ship’s week, and I’ll hold myself to that, Bones. In your own time. Kirk out.” He shook his head fondly, smiling down at the science report on his knee. Patience had never been one of the good doctor’s virtues.

No more than ten minutes later, the figure of Dr McCoy made its presence known on the bridge.

“Should keep you busy, Jim,” he added the PADD to the other on the Captain’s knee. “Only – funny thing was – no matter how many times we tried to compute-” he scrolled through a few pages before locating the offending item, “- _this_ calculation, the computer insisted on answering ‘-1’, which is blatantly incorrect. We had to calculate it by hand in the end.”

“That’s strange- Mr Spock,” he turned to his First Officer, “Can you confirm the working order of the computer?”

Spock turned to comply, one hand still resting on his station, his regulation shirt pulling slightly at the neck. It had been his old one, a little worn at the elbows perhaps, but quite serviceable. At least he had thought so until-

“Good god, man, what have you done to your neck?!” came the strident voice of the doctor, followed by the approach of the man himself. Spock’s attempt at a reply was aborted before it had even properly begun. McCoy had powered ahead with all the tenacity of a train. “-must have come up overnight. It could be dangerous, some kind of disease we didn’t pick up after the last mission. I insist you leave your station and accompany me to medical immediately.”

“Doctor, I hardly-”

Behind McCoy, Jim’s eternally expressive face had fallen into one of blank shock. The doctor turned back to the centre chair, as agitated as only he knew how to be.

“He’s coming up in some kind of... of _weals_ , Jim. I _know_ he’s not essential personnel right now and so help me if you don’t make him come to medical I will use doctors’ prerogative and do so myself.” He fixed Kirk with a beady-eyed stare, the bane of orderlies and nurses shipwide. James T Kirk, however, was neither of those things. 

And so, fighting down the urge to flee, Jim improvised. “Your eyes must be deceiving you, Bones. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him.”

“Indeed, doctor, I can assure you, I am in perfect health.”

“That’s what you _would_ say, isn’t it, you green-blooded idiot!” McCoy hissed. “I’m booking you in for an emergency check-up after this shift ends.” He glared at both of them simultaneously, a feat of expression in and of itself.

In an undertone he then added to Kirk, “Jim, I want you there; I wouldn’t put it past the pointy-eared fool to claim urgent business elsewhere.”

Jim sighed; he knew when he was defeated, and more often than not his defeat was at the hands of Leonard McCoy.

“All right, Bones, we’ll come down after the shift’s over. No need to send up an armed guard, I promise.” He clapped him weakly on the back and sent him on his way, before turning to Spock, who was still gazing, dismayed (though only Jim could know), after the doctor, and bestowing on him a wry smile.

“The computer is functioning adequately, Captain,” was all Spock said – and his mental shields were firmly in place, but Jim could hear the concern in his voice where no-one else could, read the tiny creases across the brow as only he knew how.

“I would expect nothing else, Mr Spock, thank you. The doctor has a tendency to overreact, but his heart’s in the right place.” _He might complain about this particular medical for weeks to come, but it will go no further._

Spock relented as he gazed across the chasm separating them, quite obviously (to Jim) millimetres away from worrying at his lip. _I hope you are right, Jim. This was... most unfortunately timed._

“As you were, Mr Spock.” The Captain quirked a small smile in his direction. _It’ll be fine, I promise._

***

Nine hours later, the pair vacated the bridge for the daunting walk to McCoy’s sickbay.

“I am sorry, Spock,” Jim murmured in the otherwise empty turbolift. “I should have been more careful... Starfleet training and human emotion make an... unpredictable combination.”

“Jim, I could say much the same of Vulcan strength and... human qualities. Indeed, I can note numerous occa-”

“Yes- yes, well.” Kirk’s ears were going red, he could feel them. Better stop that train of discussion where it ran. “I suppose I should have known McCoy wouldn’t listen to any ultimatum on my part. He always does what he wants. I just hope it doesn’t bother you overly. I _should_ have been more careful!” he hissed, almost to himself.

Spock allowed a wave of calm to suffuse their minds. “It is of no consequence, Jim. The good doctor is prone to overreaction, but our relations are not a circumstance of which he is unaware. I regret nothing... Except, in theory, the looseness of the neck on this uniform.” He raised an eyebrow in wry amusement.

“Yes... yes, you’re right, Mr Spock,” Jim mused as they stepped out of the turbolift. “Tighter uniforms would most certainly lead to better concentration, discipline and sex across all commissions on this vessel.”

He bit his lip to stop himself smirking, before stopping completely to turn back to his regrettably stationary First Officer, who was staring at him as though he had sprouted another head. “Oh I’m sorry, did I say that out loud?” he asked innocently, the picture of pleasant surprise. “Silly me.”

Spock raised the eyebrow yet further in response. His rejoinder, however, was not what Kirk had expected. “I estimate that such a shipwide measure would lead to an incident on the bridge in 2.7 days.”

“Spock!” Jim plastered on an expression of mock affront. “I’m saddened you think I have so little self control.”

“I was not, in fact, Captain, referring to yourself,” Spock intoned calmly.

This time it was Jim left standing in the walkway dumbfounded.

***

“Finally!” growled McCoy, all but dragging Spock into the room. “Jim, stay put. He’s not getting out of this for anything.”

“Why of course, doctor.” Jim grinned broadly and settled himself nonchalantly against the door jamb to wait out the inevitable. Spock shot him one last desperate look while McCoy pulled up the Vulcan’s files, which was answered by a wink and nothing more.

Jim had been examining Bones’ incredible collection of early twentieth century medical implements for no more than three minutes, when a yell of distress emanated from the next room. He applied his best Jim Kirk Charming Smile (trademarked) and turned to face the music.

McCoy was still sputtering over a gratifyingly shirtless Spock, who fixed Jim with a look that told him Dire Consequences would be on the horizon. The Charming Smile (trademarked) wavered not an inch.

“Bones, may I be of any assistance? Mr... Spock giving you any trouble?”

“Trouble?!” coughed the doctor, in near-hysterics. “Jim, those are- they’re-he’s-” McCoy finally looked up at his Captain’s benevolently smiling face and felt all the blood drain from his own.

“Mr Spock,” the doctor began weakly, “we will postpone this physical temporarily until you are in acceptable condition.” Spock obligingly reached for his shirt; Jim found himself suddenly and totally distracted. “Jim...” the doctor was continuing, to a deaf and unaware audience. “Jim!” There was a flicker of guilt in the brown eyes that fixed back on him. But only a flicker. “Just... get out of my sickbay.”

“Thank you, doctor, I will – do you know, we were in the middle of a most _invigorating_ game of chess before Alpha shift... it wouldn’t do to leave it unfinished, would it, Mr Spock?” He transferred the grin to his First Officer.

“Certainly not, Captain,” he inclined his head graciously as he followed Kirk out of the door. “I too found it a most engaging endeavour.”

McCoy collapsed in the nearest chair and dropped his head heavily to the nearest computer, groaning.

He dimly registered Spock’s voice in the corridor saying, “Will the doctor be... all right, Captain?” The only answer was Kirk’s laughter.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it I literally live for comments ;)


End file.
